EVA Sessions: Relics
by Gob Hobblin
Summary: The Near-Third Impact has devastated humanity, and left it in a simmering, three-way conflict for its future. In a desperate bid for anything to swing the balance in their direction, Wille has dispatched a team to recover the long-missing medical pod of one of Nerv's most valuable Pilots...
1. In the Land of Nod

**Notes from GobHobblin: **This is based on a story idea that Chuckman had pitched over at the EvaGeeks forums. The concept was so one that I just had to take a stab at. Now, fair warning: I have not seen 3.0. Considering the setup, however, I think I can make a safe case for an alternate time-line following the second Rebuild movie. So…there are some differences. Just saying…

* * *

"We are but intruders here, over this empty land."

"What?"

Maya Ibuki sniffed, and waved distractedly at the air. "Nothing," she mumbled. "Just a mimsy, you could say."

"A mimsy?" The sergeant's tone was one of confusion, but his face was bland and detached.

"A thought with no reason. Passing fancy. How far out are we from the beacon?"

"Fifteen miles and closing, ma'am."

"Good. Have the team go through final checks," she said, gazing out of the window. The Wille sergeant nodded, disappearing into the main body of the glider. Maya traced a finger on the window, trying to remember a blue ocean. There was something about crystal in the memory, something...Maya sighed. She couldn't capture it. The red below was all she could see in her mind's eye. It had displaced any concept or images of the ocean she would have had from long ago. The red crawled at her, reminding her of its unnatural existence. "Welcome to Earth," she grumbled, "Please stay a bit."

She shook herself and looked back into the cabin. This mission was beneath her, technically. Protocol dictated that a lower ranking officer would have been better positioned to command this little expedition. If this little blip in the middle of nowhere was what they thought it was, however…well, this could be a very important task indeed. She smiled despite herself, thinking back to when she had been a mere lieutenant. A whole lifetime and a whole ranking system ago…she was a different person then. She didn't feel so empty, in those days.

"Ma'am," the sergeant said, bracing himself against a nearby seat. "We have three minutes until touchdown."

"I see," she noted, and felt the glider lurch as the pilot began to circle around. "Has Nerv felt inclined to show itself?"

"No sign, ma'am," the sergeant confirmed, stepping back as Maya pushed herself up. She began to work her way towards the pilot's cabin, the sergeant carefully following.

"We may get through this, then," she said. "Ten years and no peep, and then it gets noisy…"

"Ma'am?"

"Thinking out loud, don't worry about it." Maya ignored him after that, concentrating instead on navigating the rolling cabin. She should be sitting and waiting for touchdown, but she wanted to be near the cockpit. She wanted to keep an ear on any possible Nerv movement, she wanted to see the source of the beacon. Confirm it was what they _hoped_ it was.

They were in need of Pilots.

* * *

Maya eased through the open hatch of the cockpit, glancing right at the radar operator. All five of the flight crew wore bulky headgear, with integrated instrumentation built into the goggles. Three of them sat at the front, the minimum crew required to fly the massive glider. To her left, the communications officer was immersed in his various panels, listening intently to both the beacon and all other airways. Listening for Nerv. Maya ignored him, and leaned over the radar display. She didn't need to ask the woman for an update: she could read the panels just fine herself. The beacon had been lined up to the front of them nicely. Still, no unknown contacts.

That was good.

She pushed past the operator and leaned over the central pilot, the senior officer in the cabin. "Where are we, Lieutenant?"

"Not too far out now, ma'am," the woman replied. The bulbous, glass cockpit provided them an excellent view of everything above, below, to the sides, and to the front of the glider. The two other pilots were partially suspended in space, acting as lookouts for the senior pilot behind them. Maya could see past them, the ugly gray and brown smear of coastline, licked by a soppy, gory sea. To the right, the coast drifted off into land, what was left of American Alaska. No one lived here anymore, beyond a few brave souls manning forward observation stations. It was one of those stations that had reported the first whispers of what would lead Maya and this team of hers. She shuddered, thinking about living in this dead, empty place.

"Still no sign," one of the junior pilots chanted. "Nothing…wait…there it is." The pilot toggled something on his instrument display, and the other two pilots cocked their heads in the same direction. Slowly, the glider began to drift in turn.

"We'll pass right over the source, ma'am," the senior pilot reported. "In ten seconds. You should see it now." Maya leaned forward, gripping the back of the crash couch. A shape had formed, just past the lapping waves. Something artificial, breaking against the earth around it. Silently, the land funneled below them, the shape crawling closer…closer….

It below underneath them, but it was enough for Maya to recognize it. She had spent weeks memorizing every technical detail associated with the ship, and there was no mistaking it.

It was the _Kessen Maru_.

"Bring us back around and locate a suitable landing point as close as possible," Maya said.

"Long landing or short, ma'am?" the pilot asked.

"I'll leave it to your discretion. Don't worry about me, just get down as quick as you can."

"Aye, ma'am." There was a sudden roar in the cabin as four turbojets kicked on for the first time in their flight, powering them up for a minor burst of altitude. Maya worked her way back to the seats with practiced ease. The sergeant who had followed her was still in the access corridor.

"We've found it," she confirmed. "We'll be moving out as soon as we touch down." He nodded, and began to push back to the rear of the aircraft quickly. He needed to notify the ground team before landing. Maya, for her part, found an empty seat and strapped into it. She felt the glider jitter, and then rotate nearly to its side. She could see blue sky through the port side, and ground and surf through the starboard. The sea moved to the right side, and the dead land occupied the left now. She watched it, watched as it quickly rose to meet them. She grimaced, and gripped her armrests. The pilot was going for a short landing. Craning her neck, Maya could see the massive wings of the glider vibrating as they slowly rotated up, spilling their altitude and breaking their forward momentum. She closed her eyes, and pressed back into the chair. Soon now…soon…soon….

The glider shook violently, and Maya bucked against the restraints. "Not today," she mumbled. "Not today. Not today. Not today." Ever since that day, long ago…when the _Event_ happened…Maya said it. She always said it. _Not today…not today…not today…_

The shaking stopped. She opened her eyes, tasted salt on her lips. She had been sweating very hard. She sniffed, and shakily undid her restraints. They were no longer moving. There was a sound of fury and commotion from the rear of the glider. That would the main troop compartment opening like a clam-shell, disgorging most of the main complement. Maya moved back to the cockpit, and leaned in. "Lieutenant?"

"Ma'am!"

"Inform us of any unknown contacts that arrive. I will be accompanying the ground contingent. Is that clear?"

"Aye, ma'am." Maya turned, and moved to the back of the glider at a brisk pace. She could smell salt and blood well before she pushed into the sunlight. Three of the ground troops still covering the aircraft glanced back at her when she appeared from the plane. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell of LCL, and watched as the main body of troops rushed across the short space between them and the rusted cargo vessel. There were two LMGs mounted inside the glider, covering the approach. Maya waited patiently for them to close on the vessel, waited for them to secure it. She winced at the sudden thump of a breaching charge, as they blew a hole in the hull in order to enter and clear the ship. It took them only five minutes to do so: these troops were very good at what they did.

With an escort of two troops, Maya crossed the sand to the ship. At the breach, she was greeted by an American technical sergeant named Sutter. He was a black man with a nasty scar from his nose to his chin, cutting through his gums and teeth. He jerked a thumb towards the interior. "There was a mess in here, ma'am."

"A mess?"

"Yeah…bodies everywhere." She wrinkled her nose and entered the dank, stale vessel. Glowing chem lights lay scattered along the floor, and Maya followed the trail slowly. She encountered the first desiccated corpse with a gasp of recognition: it wore the old Nerv uniform. A stab of nostalgia cut into her heart. How strange, she thought, to think of the that time at Nerv as the 'Good Old Days.' Extinction had hung in the air then, too. It had felt less present, though. Less desperate. Where had the hope gone? She felt old. She wasn't, but she felt it.

"There's more inside," Sutter lisped. "It looks like they killed each other."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Maya said. "There was a lot of…confusion. At the time."

"Are you saying that all of them weren't on the same page?" he asked, turning to lead Maya down to the main cargo bay.

"I'm sure they weren't," the lieutenant-commander confirmed. "Between Gendo Ikari, Seele, and those of us doing what we thought was right…I wouldn't be surprised if everyone was a little surprised by who was on this ship."

"Sounds messy," Sutter lisped. He paused, to wipe at a fleck of spittle on his lip. "Excuse me."

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten corrective surgery," she said. She paused in the corridor, suddenly embarrassed. "Pardon me…that was rude."

"It's fine, ma'am," Sutter said, turning and giving her a smirk. "This was the result of the surgery. The initial injury was a lot worse. I could probably patch it up but…well, I haven't ever gotten around to it, you know? Too busy to wait for rehabilitation, and all."

"Right," she said. She actually _did_ know. These days, it seemed that it was all she could do to find time for just…basic things. She continued to follow the technical sergeant, until the claustrophobic, bloodstained, corpse-choked corridors opened into a larger space. Maya stopped, gasping. The room was empty, save for a single, cylindrical object at the center. Thick bolts clamped it to the steel deck. It had also once been strapped in, as well, but the harnesses had long eroded and frayed. They lay tangled around the cylinder like molted skin. The cylinder itself was at least eight feet tall, and from where Maya stood, it had to be five feet across. In the center, in peeling paint, were the numbers '02.'

Two of Sutter's soldiers crouched next to the cylinder, utilizing portable computers to analyze the cylinder and determine its contents. Maya was quite certain what was contained inside, but…

She frowned. She didn't recognize this device.

"Are you sure this is the only piece of cargo here?" she asked, turning to Sutter.

"There's plenty of equipment on board, ma'am," he said. "But this is the only thing that matched the technical readouts for what we're looking for."

"This…isn't…hmmm." Maya crossed the deck, her boot heels clicking against the steel. She put a hand on one of the soldier's shoulders. The young man glanced up, and nodded.

"Ma'am," he said, backing away from his computer. She knelt down and glanced at the readouts. The other soldier scoffed.

"I can't believe this thing is still active," he mumbled. Maya listened with half an ear. The screen was spitting out all technical data, none of which really made any sense to Maya. That concerned her. If this was a medical recovery pod like Commander Akagi had said, then Maya would recognize these readouts. This was…different. The coding was something else entirely.

This was not a medical pod.

"Ma'am," someone called from the corridor. "We've found the beacon."

"How was it activated?" she asked loudly, not looking up from the console.

"Dead man switch, it looks like. Activated after a ten-year countdown."

"Why ten years?" she mumbled.

"Pardon, ma'am?"

"I was wondering why it was set to activate after ten years," Maya replied. She turned to the soldier next to her. "What's the status of the occupant?"

"…uh…well…." The soldier squinted.

"What?" Maya snapped.

"I'm…not sure, ma'am." He turned his console towards her. Maya looked at it, and made a face. He had brought up a successful interior map of the cylinder and it revealed…

Nothing. She glanced back at her own console. The data had finally begun to sort itself into something more readable, and Maya could determine a way into the cylinder's computer. She queried on the contents of the container, the status of those contents, any possible disruptions in the past decade.

She grunted in irritation. The pod did indeed contain what they were looking for, it was claiming that the occupant was in good health, and that there had been no disruptions. Maya didn't like that. The computer in the pod was designed for abuse and longevity. Unless it had been deliberately tampered with, there should be no reason for it to be spitting out errors. Was the pod a decoy?

She closed her eyes, trying to think. If there was an occupant in the pod, their body would have been detected and outlined in the initial map. Something about that thought brought a sense of alarm to Maya. She glanced back at the console, looking at the interior temperature of the pod.

It was 38 C. It should have been significantly lower than that. She felt a sense of defeat creeping over her when the soldier next to her said, "Okay, this is weird. There is something inside the pod, roughly correlating to three times the mass of a human body, and…liquid. Some sort of liquid." Maya looked up.

"Liquid? Wait…a _mass_? What mass?"

"Right here. See this fuzzy patch?" The soldier pointed at a spot in the upper portion of the pod. "I'll clean it up, but I can already tell you that this is a sphere of some sort, maybe about…three feet across, give or take."

"A sphere…" Maya sat back on her heels. A sphere…in a container of liquid. Her eyes widened in shock.

"That's a core," she mumbled.

"A what?"

"Never mind. Sutter," she turned to the sergeant. "We need this pod loaded into the glider as soon as possible."

"Can do, ma'am," he said. "I take it we found what we're looking for?"

"I think so," Maya murmured "We need Commander Akagi to take a look at it, to be sure. Either way, I'm pretty sure that we found Capt. Langley…or at least what's left of her."


	2. The King of Rats

The woman slouched in her temporary quarters, leaning heavily on the steel sink. She studied her face in the polished mirror, her expression serene over troubled waters.

She was getting older.

There were no wrinkles, and her skin was still smooth and, to a degree, youthful. An effect of the LCL? Proximity to Near Third Impact? Perhaps. There were other signs, though. Her hair had always had a violet tint to it, but now it waxed towards a true purple. Her eyes had once been fiery, but were now so empty. Her features were more drawn, more angular. Nice skin couldn't hide all of it.

Time had worn on Misato Katsuragi.

"What would you think of me now?" she mumbled. She traced the features of her face with her fingers, and closed her eyes. That was another sign of age, right there: the thick, leathery callouses on the palms of her hands, the tips of her fingers. No amount of magical rejuvenation could stop the progress of simple, backbreaking labor.

Slowly, she slumped over the sink, letting her head bob into the empty bowl. She was so tired. So tired.

There was a knock on her hatch, and Misato studied the doorway. They had been here for three weeks now, three weeks of refit in the fortress city of Seattle. Three weeks of downtime punctuated by work, and meetings, and training, training, training…she was getting grumpy. She considered simply waiting for whoever it was to give up and leave, and then she thought perhaps she should go put something on.

Then she thought to hell with it all, and answered her door still undressed.

Ritsuko Akagi blinked in surprise, taking in her commander in a glance. Misato's hair was loose, and she stood barefooted in panties and bra. "You know," Ritsuko noted, "One of these days, you're going to open the door on some poor little middie or lower rating and they just won't know what to do with themselves."

"What do you want, Ritsuko?" Misato grumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"To come in out of the corridor, for one," the other woman said patiently. Wordlessly, Misato stepped out of the doorway, allowing Ritsuko to enter the small apartment. "I would be jealous of the fact that you've somehow kept your figure, but I'm guessing it has something to do with not eating enough."

"If you came here to nitpick me, you can just go right the hell back out," Misato mumbled. Ritsuko keyed the door, sliding the hatch closed.

"Yukon Pixie has flashed back a 'mission success' code," the other woman said, scratching distractedly at her very short, dark hair. Misato hummed thoughtfully to herself.

"That's good," she finally said, leaving the entryway and heading to the small receptacle that contained a toilet and shower. Her uniform hung on the doorknob, and she began to dress.

"That's it?" Ritsuko asked, quietly. She slowly rocked on her heels, waiting for anything else. When Misato said nothing, Ritsuko again asked, "That's it?"

"What do you want me to say, Ritsuko?" Misato snapped. "We found Asuka, oh happy day! Now we have one more Pilot, which may or may not tip the scales in our favor." She began to button up her shirt, her fingers trembling from effort. "I've had to keep holding it together, holding it together from that day to this one, and I'm a little tired of holding it together on wishes and fancy."

"You're upset about Operation US," Ritsuko murmured, pointedly.

"I am _immensely_ uncomfortable with its margin of potential success, as well as what success could _possibly_ mean," Misato snapped. "After that _day_…it's a wild-card. It's too much of a wild-card."

"It's either that, or we continue to burn out N2 batteries and rely on an inefficient generator to get basic performance out of the _Wunder_," Ritsuko said patiently. "The only EVA that we know of which possesses a working S2 engine is on that satellite. And more to the point, do we really want to leave that in Nerv's hands?"

"They lack the ability to bring it down," Misato pointed out, clipping her belt.

"But they do have the ability to prevent anyone else from getting to it. At least, until we activate Asuka."

"How do we know she won't be a vegetable?" Misato demanded. "She's been on ice for ten years. How do we know she's even still capable of being revived?"

"I guess we'll have to wait and see when Yukon Pixie returns," Ritsuko said patiently. Misato slumped, and leaned against the bulkhead. "What is it?" Ritusko ventured.

"The Badger wants a 'yes-or-no' today," Misato said. "A certain go-ahead for continuing with Operation US."

"You still don't feel comfortable saying 'yes?'"

"There's too many variables," Misato mumbled.

"I remember a time when you said to hell with variables and got some very striking successes out of it."

"Yeah, and look how that worked out," she snapped, sitting down on the bunk and slipping into her boots. "Worked out…so frigging well, didn't it?"

"You're in a foul mood today, aren't you?" Ritsuko snapped, feeling peevish now.

"I have…two active EVAs with one Pilot between them on a warship that sucks down our resources like candy. I now have one _possible_ Pilot, who may or may not be capable of assisting us, in order to take said warship into orbit to retrieve something I really don't want to retrieve, all on possibility. Possibility, possibility, possibility…I am so sick and tired of possibilities." She pushed herself to her feet. "When does Yukon Pixie return?"

"Three hours, if they make good headwind."

"Keep me informed. I have a meeting with the Badger in twenty minutes to update him on where we stand…though to be frank, he probably already knows everything already. I'd kill for his information network." She drew her hair back into a tight ponytail, a few strands hanging loose around her face. Ritsuko was giving her an odd look, her expression somewhere between loss and nostalgia. "What?"

"I remember when you used to be more carefree. You were a mess of a woman, Misato." Ritsuko shrugged. "I miss it, sometimes."

"And you've become a lot more irreverent," Misato snarled. "You're lucky we're alone. What would it do for discipline if my executive spoke to me like this in public?"

"I've never been very good in a military environment," Ritsuko said with a shrug. "And frankly, I'm a little overtaken by the hilarity of the whole thing. Perhaps it's my way of dealing with stress." She smiled, and glanced over at the mirror. She fingered her red-tinted hair. "I remember when I used to dye this. Don't you?"

"I think about it every day," Misato said sarcastically. "Keep me posted on Yukon Pixie." She marched out of her apartment, not bothering to see Ritsuko out.

* * *

Misato stepped into the darkened office, past the sentry in the corridor. She snapped to attention as the hatch hissed shut behind her. In the single, small pool of light at the end of the room, a desk sat. Behind it was a hunched, white-haired man of very dark skin. The man glanced up, and stood slowly. Misato snapped a salute, and stated, "Capt. Katsuragi reporting as ordered, sir." The man returned the salute in the British fashion, with the palm out.

"Please, Captain, take a seat," he said in an accented voice, one that spoke of his African heritage. Misato stepped carefully over the carpeted floor and entered the light, occupying one of two seats facing the older gentleman. "So, a little bird tells me that your little venture to the Yukon was a success, yes?"

"Yes, sir," Misato said quietly.

"And now we will see if this gives you the tools necessary to retrieve Unit-01 from orbit?"

"I…believe it will, sir."

The elder officer laughed. "No, you don't. I'm surprised, Captain, usually you are so assertive. That's how I know you have doubts about this mission."

"I do have doubts," Misato agreed, "But I also understand the price of not following through."

"You say that to convince yourself," he suggested.

"I…yes, sir," Misato admitted. "I am not convinced."

He nodded, rotating in his chair slightly. "I have received word back from my home nation, Captain. The Greater Republic of the Congo has told me that Seele forces have been probing the Sahara in the north. That they think an attack could come, and come soon. I also have heard that there is a lot of activity in what is left of Japan. We are about to be squeezed, Captain." He pinched his thumb and index finger together tightly, in the air. "Squeezed until the blood bursts."

"There has been no indication of collusion between Seele and Nerv," Misato said quietly.

"One rock doesn't care about the other one when both are crushing you at the same time," her superior noted. Misato shrugged. "The fact of the matter is, between our limited ability to deploy anti-AT weaponry against Seele and _especially_ Nerv, we are the weaker part of this little tripod." He pointed to the ceiling. "We _need_ what is on that satellite, and right now we are in a position to grab it."

"It could be a waste of resources," Misato pointed out.

"It could be, but in that case, it's already a worst-case scenario," the Badger admitted. "In that case, our only point in fighting would be spite."

"Spite is not an unworthy cause," Misato grumbled.

"I didn't say it was: I just wanted something a bit more optimistic to report to the Central Council," the Badger said sarcastically. "I support Operation US, but what I need to know is if the commander of the _Wunder_ does as well."

"I do, sir, as best as I can," she admitted. "I have reservations, but I think you can understand that."

"To an extent," he replied. "I have a different understanding of the world than you do, Captain. Let us leave it at that. Now, with Ms. Shikinami returning…"

"_Capt._ Shikinami, sir," Misato corrected, her tone patient.

"Of course. I take it she will be part of the _Wunder_'s security complement, then?"

"You're concerned about the rank convention?" Misato asked incredulously.

"Well, why not? There's not much else worth considering until she gets here."

"I wouldn't say _that_, but...well...we _could_ induct her as a Lieutenant, I suppose," she mumbled.

"Perhaps. Either way, with her returning, this should bring our total complement of Pilots up to two, correct?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Possibly. We still need to see the state of the Pilot when she returns," Misato warned.

"But two should give us a better margin of success in retrieving Unit-01?"

"It _should_," Misato answered cautiously.

"It's a shame we don't have more Pilots trained, but I understand the reasoning," the Badger said. "Then again, I am biased, I must admit."

"…In which way, sir?" Misato asked. It occurred to her that she really knew nothing at all about the Badger, save for his curious name: Joseph Born-Again. He had picked it himself, she was told.

"How is Lt. Makinami holding up?" he asked, changing the subject.

Misato swallowed, feeling the thread drift away from her. "Tired, but you know her: she loves to fight."

"That she does. I guess the so-called 'Curse of Eva' has its benefits, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't call them _benefits_, but…"

"Oh, come now: she has an enthusiasm and drive that only a teenager could maintain. Now, granted, I'm sure there are plenty of side-effects, but I think I could stand them for a chance to stand up without feeling my spine shift." He waved a hand, and smiled sadly. "There are prices to be paid, of course. It's irrelevant. She is able to perform, though, yes? Able to carry out her role in Operation US?"

"We have her on enforced R&R right now, to ensure that she can," Misato answered.

"Enforced?"

"Yes, sir. For her benefit, sir: she is not to be contacted or harassed for at least a two-week period outside of her security escort and any possible, catastrophic needs. Such as an all-out assault by Nerv, or…"

"I see," he said, waving away the rest of the explanations. "Enforced on _our_ end. Thank you for doing that, Captain. We have asked a lot of her, over the years…"

"We shouldn't have," Misato said, her tone bitter.

"No…we shouldn't have. But we did, and we will keep doing so until we have completed this war and can turn our attention to reclaiming the world from the death imposed upon it."

"Yes, sir."

"When does the pod containing Capt. Shikinami return?"

"Two and a half hours, sir."

"Please keep me posted, Captain," the Badger said.

* * *

Misato occupied herself with paperwork while waiting for Yukon Pixie to return. Requisition forms, counseling statements, training schedules…all the little bits and pieces necessary to running a successful warship…even a partly organic, flying warship. It was joyously mind-numbing, even more so as all of it was electronic. She felt the back-glow of her portable workstation creeping into her eyes, past the nerves and into the darker recesses of her skull. She had just reached a certain equilibrium of numbness when an incoming comm winked on the bottom right of her screen. She opened it, and Ritsuko's face filled the monitor.

"Captain," she said, "Yukon Pixie is inbound now, should be landing in about ten minutes."

"Which airfield?"

"They've been directed to A3, adjacent to the _Wunder_'s dock."

"Is that the best field?" Misato asked. She wondered if a civilian field or another military strip would be better…something closer to a medical facility.

"We have a portable lab setup in the structures adjacent to the _Wunder_'s berth facility," Ritsuko said. "I tasked Ensign Suzuhara with establishing them after our meeting, per your instructions." Misato narrowed her eyes. Ritsuko's expression did not change, but there was something smug in her blank features. _Per her instructions_…

"That's good to hear," she murmured, letting it slide. She didn't fault Ritsuko on acting with initiative, and normally would have been okay with it, even if Ritsuko had done so 'per her instructions.' Today, though, she was simply in too foul a mood to allow it any sort of leeway, at least within her own mind.

"I think I should also let you know that Yukon Pixie announced something odd concerning the pod. They felt it was safe to tell us, now that they're within the safety envelope of Wille over-watch."

"Odd? Odd how?"

"They said it didn't match any known model of emergency medical pod from ten years ago, and that…they are uncertain the status of the occupant." Misato grimaced.

"Uncertain how? I don't like that wording…."

"They _believe_ the occupant is alive, and in good health, but…" Ritsuko shrugged, "They said it'd be better if we saw it. You may want to get down here before they land."

"I see," Misato said carefully. "Very well. If they touchdown before I arrive, just start trying to crack it."

"Aye, ma'am."

* * *

By the time Misato's ground car had arrived at the field, the glider that had constituted the mission codenamed Yukon Pixie had already touched down and berthed. The crew had been off-loaded and was going through the stand-down procedures, and their precious cargo transferred to the makeshift laboratory. Misato worked her way through several layers of security cordon before entering the commandeered lab space. Ensign Suzuhara's efforts were quite impressive, to say the least. The ensign had been given only a few hours of notice, and had carried out her task in roughly an hour. The large suite had been filled with monitoring equipment, power monitors, and what was more, it had all been sterilized with speed and efficiency. Misato would have to speak to the young officer later, to convey her personal satisfaction.

Ritsuko was already in there, working with a team of techs to analyze the pod. Misato grimaced at it as she entered; it looked like a vast metal sarcophagus. What would be inside when they opened it?

"Captain," Ritsuko said in greeting, turning to nod. The team continued their analysis, their current activity overriding military protocol. Ritsuko gestured at the pod. "This…is something I have never seen before."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I thought I was privy to most, if not all of, Nerv's secrets back in the day," Ritsuko said, a slight smirk on her face. Misato nodded; she had practically turned white when Ritsuko had spilled all of her knowledge, unsure of whether to be grateful or murder her on the spot. She had settled into something of a cautious indifference for two or three years after that conversation. Ritsuko continued: "This pod is _not_ an emergency medical pod, nor is it a cryogenics chamber."

"But…Asuka is inside there, right?"

"Yes, she is," Ritsuko said, "At least we believe she is."

"You 'believe' she is…." Misato framed the words carefully.

"This chamber is filled with LCL…and a miniature core."

"A…a core? As in a core? Like with an Angel, or an Eva?"

"That is precisely what I mean," Ritsuko said, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "I believe that Asuka is in this chamber, and has been absorbed into this miniature core. Now, _that_ is a clever way to put someone on ice, don't you think?"

The thought shocked Misato, and also raised the slight taste of bile in her throat. This discussion of 'cores' and 'absorption' brought back an unpleasant memory. "When…how would this technology have been developed? _Who_ would have developed it?"

"No clue," Ritsuko admitted. "All I can say is that Gendo Ikari was better at keeping secrets than I gave him credit for, and I fully believed him capable of keeping a wide range of secrets. This is something else."

"So…if she is in a core…how do we get Asuka out?" Misato asked.

"We're still trying to determine that, but we feel the instructions have to be in the CPU mounted in this pod," Ritsuko explained.

"Really?"

"Well…not instructions _parse_," the other woman admitted sheepishly. "I imagine we can back-engineer the internal code well enough to determine how it's supposed to be done, or even if we need more equipment. This tech is something else, let me tell you."

"How long will it take?"

"No idea, but I don't think it should take longer than a week or so, once I get Ibuki in here working with me. I dismissed her for the day, so she could compile a report on the expedition and get some rest. Are you okay with that?"

"Yes," Misato agreed. "We have a limited time-frame on this, but I trust your judgment. Frankly, however, I would like to hurry this along…." Misato crossed over to the pod and laid a hand on it.

"You have a concern?"

"Did Ibuki mention anything about the beacon?"

"She did, actually," Ritsuko said. "She was concerned about the fact that it activated after a ten year countdown. She was surprised we got there before Nerv, and she wondered if there was some sort of significance to the timing."

"I have to agree," Misato mumbled. She stepped away from the pod, slowly circling the room and examining the equipment. Ritsuko slowly trailed next to her. "It bothers me, especially, that it seems so nicely timed to the upcoming Operation US."

"To be fair, Operation US was in a hitch _until_ we determined Asuka might be of assistance to us," Ritsuko pointed out. "I think the timing here is simple coincidence"

"Coincidence? With Gendo Ikari? Please," Misato grumbled. Ritsuko shrugged in resignation; that was an excellent point.

"So…what do we do?"

"Let Ibuki take the night, and work on this with your team. When tomorrow comes around, all priority for the medical and research staff is in opening this pod. Is that clear?"

"Of course, Misato," Ritsuko said quietly. Misato nodded, scowling a bit but feeling a little better at Ritsuko's personable assurance. "I'm going to be on the _Wunder_. You can locate me there if anything new develops."

"We'll keep you posted," Ritsuko promised.

"I'm sure," Misato agreed, and left the room. The questions followed her, however, fluttering about her head like so many carrion birds. They hounded her throughout the day, pecking at her mind.


	3. Hierophant

Three days had gone by since the pod had been returned. Three days gone, three days past. Three days wasted. Ritsuko nibbled furiously at a stir-stick, wanting a cigarette but unwilling to leave for a smoke break.

"With all due respect, ma'am," the young officer next to her murmured, "That will ruin your teeth."

"Shut up," she grumbled. She immediately regretted, and blinked as she glanced over at the ensign. The woman (well…_girl_, really) gave her a look of unabashed hurt. "I'm sorry, Sakura," Ritsuko said, cutting past formality and protocol and going straight to familiarity. "I shouldn't have snapped, I'm just…this is so _infuriating_." Sakura Suzuhara's expression softened, but still held a note of hurt on it.

"That's fine, Commander," she said, then forced a smile. "At least we know she's in there, yes?"

"Yes, but she needs to be _out here_!" To punctuate the statement, Ritsuko dropped her data pad on the table and kicked the chair next to her. Sakura squeaked, backing up a bit as the chair skittered across the floor. "I swear to God, the nooks and crannies of that man's mind! How the hell do you think of something like this? No, how do you _keep_ something like this hidden?" She stood up, and rubbed her eyes. It occurred to her that someone was holding a cup of coffee, the synthetic stuff but…still…it was coffee. She followed her nose to behold a cup in Sakura's hand, gently extending towards her. "Was that for me?" Ritsuko asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Sakura said. "I figured you could go for a caffeine shot. You've been at it for awhile, now."

"Thanks, hon," Ritsuko said with a smile, accepting the cup. Sakura blushed, slightly, still unused to Ritsuko's behavior. The woman was a scientist first and an officer second. She had never really fit into the type of hierarchy that Wille had, except on those circumstances when she had to assert her own authority. With her subordinates, she could be shockingly draconian one moment, and then lamb-meek the next. There were stories about how she used to be before N3I, but there were so many rumors meshed into those little tidbits, it was impossible to determine fact and truth from falsehood and fancy.

Ritsuko took a sip of the coffee, and winced a little at the acidic back-taste. They could replicate just about any sort of food-stuff you could think of, this days, but it was all artificial, all produced from printers. That was, unless you went into one of the safe areas. The last time she had done that, Ritsuko had eaten a _real_ steak (20 ounces!) so rare she could still see the pink to this day, actual mashed potatoes, with butter. God, how she missed butter…

That was three years ago. She hadn't had un-processed, un-printed food in three years. She no longer tasted the coffee as she sipped at it bitterly. "How…um…How is Lt. Com. Ibuki's progress?" Sakura asked, shyly.

"Hit or miss, all the same," Ritsuko mumbled, glancing at her white-board. She was in one of the adjacent offices down the hall from the medical suite, which was acting as a combined sleeping room and brainstorming chamber. Various ideas, codes, solutions sat scrawled on the board like hieroglyphics, but the center of the complicated web had been erased and replaced with a cartoon cat snarling and the character for BAKA scrawled across the center. To emphasize the point, 'baka' spelled in English was also scattered around the character. Ibuki had stormed in one day, erased all their notes, whipped that up in five minutes, and stormed out.

It applied nicely, Ritsuko thought. They were all at wit's end trying to figure out this little mystery that had been dumped on them. She turned to Sakura. "By the way, did the Captain talk to you about the suite you set up?"

"Yes, ma'am, she did," Sakura said, happily. "She gave me an official counseling session for it. Paperwork and everything."

"I might get that today, then," Ritsuko said, thoughtfully. "I'll be sure to put my own words on it. Seriously, you did a great job in there."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I feel bad for not telling you earlier," Ritsuko added, stepping out of the office and into the corridor. Two Wille security personnel in fatigues and holding assault rifles nodded politely to her. Johann and Tamara…they were some of the old hands on the _Wunder_. They knew Ritsuko well enough to avoid snapping into attention at her presence: that would have just annoyed her. Ritsuko continued to speak as passed through them, holding up her coffee in mutually polite greeting. "You've been in there doing all that work, and no one stopped long enough to say, 'Good job, kid!'"

"Can you honestly be surprised, ma'am?" Sakura asked. "With what we're working on, I'm surprised anybody took the time to notice. I still can't believe technology like that existed ten years ago."

"You and me both, kiddo," Ritsuko agreed, entering the suite. The pod was slightly smaller now, having been disassembled in some areas, in the hope of back-engineering it without causing a critical failure. There were four individuals present, all of them in various states of work or non-work. The most noticeable was Ibuki, sitting slumped over a table and snoring softly. That spoke to Ritsuko in ways deep and profound: dead end. Ideas exhausted. No solutions.

No solutions at all. She sighed.

"Take a look at what he's doing," Ritsuko asked, pointing to one of the technicians — that was the Brit, Hamish (he went by Ham, Ritsuko, remember that…)— who was busier than the others, slouched over a panel connected by three wires to the pod. Sakura nodded, and crossed to the tech, placing a hand on his shoulder gently to alert him to her presence without distracting him from his work.

Ritsuko crossed to Ibuki and patted her on the shoulder. With a snort, Ibuki's eyes opened, and she glanced about lost for a second. "Crap," she mumbled, and sat up. She had fallen asleep on a portable white board, and the coding she had scrawled on it sat mirrored on her cheek. She glanced up at Ritsuko. "Well, ma'am, I guess it sets a bad example for the subordinates, doesn't it?"

"When was the last time you slept?"

"One…no, two days ago," Ibuki grumbled, checking her watch. "Well, one minute ago, actually…"

"Take a break, Maya, we're just beating our head against the wall on this," Ritsuko said.

"I can't, ma'am, this is too…" She slid the board away from her in disgust, causing it to clatter loudly against the back wall. Ritsuko took a Kleenex and handed it to Ibuki. The woman studied it, then wiped her cheek with realization. The ink on her fingertips made her blanch, and she accepted the tissue. "We're falling apart over this."

"We've _been_ falling apart, Maya, this has nothing to do with _that_." Ritsuko smiled in amusement at the thought. "Just leave it to Nerv to drop a nice little puzzle in our lap that drives us out of our skulls."

"Seriously!" Ibuki snapped. "I always assumed that you needed some sort of organic framework to support the body of a core, but that was just an assumption, right? One born out of only seeing cores braced inside Adamic-based lifeforms." Ibuki spun in her chair, facing the pod. "There was nothing there that indicated a core _couldn't_ exist on its own, suspended in a non-organic lattice. It's just…how was it created? How does it function? And what's more…I mean, we determined from what happened with Unit-01 that the absorption of both Pilots at N3I had to do with both the Event itself, and the consumption of the S2 engine, yes?"

"Yes," Ritsuko said, offering her coffee to Ibuki. The woman took it and sipped wordlessly. She straightened, and then continued.

"So, the absorption was by accident. And, according to you, there was the absorption of Yui Ikari into Unit-01 during the first synchronicity tests. It implies to me that there has to be some sort of exchange, something to induce the individual being absorbed into the rift."

"I don't think it was voluntary on the part of the two Pilots, or on Dr. Ikari's part," Ritsuko murmured.

"But it _had_ to be, or we wouldn't have seen synchronization in the first place," Ibuki observed. "There was a point of high synchronization in both incidents, which meant the individuals in question had chosen their…path, so to speak, up to the moment they were absorbed. Maybe being absorbed wasn't their intention, but they had to follow a certain set of criteria up to the point they no longer had a choice."

"I see what you're saying," Ritsuko said. "If Asuka has been absorbed into this miniature core, she had to be induced somehow. She had to _choose_ to be absorbed."

"Yes," Ibuki said. "That right there is bothering me. How did that happen? What was done to induce it?"

"…And how do we…oh, my." Ritsuko stood up, feeling her scalp become hot. Ibuki glanced up.

"What? What did I say?"

"Maya, you may have solved it," Ritsuko said, crossing to the pod. She sucked on the knuckle of her thumb for a moment, and then turned. "She's been absorbed, so…if she was convinced to follow the route into the core, how do we _convince_ her to follow the route _out_?"

Ibuki blinked in confusion, and then stood. "Oh! Oh!" she gasped, grasping it. "It's a choice! It was _always_ a choice!" She rubbed her hair furiously, as though she could galvanize her thoughts with her fingertips. "That means in order to bring the Second Child out of the core, she needs to choose to leave, and we have to find a way to communicate that."

"Yes. Nerv had to have some way of inducing that choice, the same way it induced a synchronization of this magnitude in the first place," Ritsuko said. She had no idea how that was done, but it was completely different from their earlier theories of how the pod had worked. They had assumed that it was all up to them to force Asuka out…it never occurred to them that she _herself_ might have something to do with whether she could leave or not.

"I may have found out how," a voice said. The two women turned to the young Brit who Sakura had been observing. He held up his pad. "There was a sub-routine layered way down under the initial OS. I had to do some peeling, and it got hairy, but I may have found the initial strand." He tapped the screen, and one of the walls sparked, and glowed. It blinked, and then the image from Ham's pad reflected across the wall. "Ma'am?" he asked, handing the pad to Sakura. She accepted it, and he crossed to the wall. On the pad were lines of green text, numbers and letters that looked very much like the old DOS-style prompts that lay within the guts of Nerv's software.

"Okay, see this line of code here?" he asked, placing his hand over the text. The appropriate line glowed brightly, separating it from the other lines. "This isn't anything significant, just a good example of what most of the language within the pod consists of. Pretty straightforward stuff, very basic programming language, but not one normally used, yes?" He pointed to a single word on the line of code, the English word 'Syringe.'

"Now, this was originally in Japanese characters. I admit I scrubbed it through three layers of translation software, which I can assure you probably was _not_ a good idea, but…whatever. Anyway, this is an example of a placeholder. The coder fitted these words into place to act as easy to draw commands for other subroutines, so to speak. 'Syringe' here has to do with one of fifty-seven subroutines that deal with temperature regulation."

"This is going somewhere, yes?" Ritsuko asked. This was old-hat stuff to her.

"Ah, yes, actually," Ham said, his thin face brightening in a most irascible smirk. The other three techs had clustered around the wall, interested in where their colleague was going with his line of thought. "Okay, take a look at this." He tapped three words, each one highlighting: Mama, Warmth, Please.

"Mama…warmth…and please. These were the first things I noticed that were out of place."

"In what way?" Ibuki asked.

"They were included in a subroutine that was hidden behind the word 'Finger.' Now, these words…are not subroutines."

"I'm sorry?" Ritsuko asked.

"Every word, every actual conceptual noun, verb, anything in this gobbledygook that makes sense, is masking an actual process happening somewhere in the computer. These words, however, have no rhyme, reason, or bearing on anything that the pod does. There are no subroutines, no code processes, nothing attached to the. They are just _there_. Mama, warmth, and please."

Ritsuko furrowed her brow, and then felt a dawning realization come over her. "Is there…are there more words like that? Where you found these?"

"A-ha…yes, there are," Ham said. He swiped at the screen, collapsing the wall of code, and then slapped an icon on the wall. A list of thirty or so words popped up. Glancing over it, Ritsuko began to see the shared theme they had.

She shook her head, and smiled. Ham's smirk had become an honest-to-goodness shit-eating grin. "All right, just say it," she said.

"These…are the thoughts of Asuka Shikinami Langley…encapsulated down into basic words. And this, my dear Commander, is a potential method for communicating with her."

"And forcing her out," Ibuki added. "Well done, Ham." He gave a slight bow.

* * *

"I am consistently impressed with the team you've assembled," Misato said, rubbing her right-lower eyelid. "So…that's three days gone. How much longer do you need?"

Ritsuko shrugged. "I can give an estimate of one day to dissect the code, maybe a half-day or more to crack it…I hate to say three or four days, but we want to do this right."

"And not kill the Pilot. I agree." Misato nodded. "Fortunately, the Badger is from the school of 'It's done when it's done,' so I think he has our back with the Council." Misato sighed. "There are a lot of North Americans on that Council, however. You know how they get with deadlines."

"All too well," Ritsuko agreed. "I don't intend to leave you hanging on the line, Captain. Just know that we have a solution, but no certain time-frame."

"Mmm," Misato said, but her eyes had wandered. Ritsuko's face scrunched on the screen.

"What is it?"

"You remember how Asuka was injured in the first place," Misato murmured. Ritsuko's eyes dropped.

"Yes. Yes, I do." There was an uncomfortable silence that lingered for a bit. "I try not to think about those days too much," Ritsuko said, quietly. Misato rubbed her temple. _Ah, yes_, she thought. _What was it you had said after her injury? 'A valuable sample.' You had referred to the girl as a sample. You _have _changed, haven't you? Haven't we all?_

"What is going to come out of that pod?" Misato asked, quietly. "Will it be Asuka? Or…something else?"

"I can't tell you," Ritsuko admitted. "I think we owe it to ourselves…and her…to see with our own eyes."

Misato crossed her arms, and sniffed. "We have not had an Angel attack in ten years. Could this change that?"

"It…might," Ritsuko said, cautiously. "I didn't have an opportunity to fully examine the potential contamination inherent in the girl before she was taken out of my custody. I will say, however, that the fact she was removed from my observation is in and of itself sufficient cause for concern."

"And you still think we should go ahead with this?"

"I do," Ritsuko agreed, "Because in the end we have very little choice." Misato nodded, and leaned back in her chair.

"When you can confirm that you can, in fact, bring her out," Misato said, "Don't do anything until you hear from me. Is that clear?"

"Of course," Ritsuko agreed. Misato cut the line without preamble, and leaned back in her chair. A strange, half-memory drifted through her mind. The smell of beer, the taste of curry, the sound screaming. It was an argument, an argument in high-pitched voices, a boy and a girl. It was strange she should think back on that argument with such fondness.

As suddenly as the memory arrived, it twisted away in a spiteful clutch of bitterness, like a kite touching flame. Misato wiped at her eyes, feeling tears that had come unbidden and unwelcome. Those days were gone. They would never return, and all that was left was moving forward. Ever forward, ever forward.


End file.
